


Explore! Medieval Westeros

by celestialcollectionaus19



Series: Explore! Medieval Westeros Universe [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackmail, Business, Family, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Multi, Sexual Content, Summer Vacation, Tourism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialcollectionaus19/pseuds/celestialcollectionaus19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. After coming in first place at a school history contest, Arya and her friends win a free tour of medieval sites all over Westeros. She expects a fun, carefree six-week trip around Westeros. The important men and women who board the bus with her beg to differ... and as the weeks go on, Arya finds herself tangled up in the messy, complicated, corporate lives of Baratheon, Tyrell, Lannister, and Martell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departures

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2014, when I was on holiday in Europe. Before reading the ASOIAF books, I think, and right after Season 4 of GOT. I thought I'd post this here because I enjoyed re-reading it. Who knows, maybe somebody else will like this too. Anyway, enjoy!

**The Reach**

Tywin stared at the pair of tickets in his hands. "What is this?" he demanded, teeth gritted together.

Olenna strode calmly into her bedroom. "Oh, that," she said lightly, barely glancing at the tickets. "You're pleasantly surprised?"

He shot her his best death glare.

"Well, I guess not." She sat down next to him on her bed. "The grand-kids wanted to welcome you into the family, Tywin."

"Yours or mine?" He didn't even need to ask. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen 'gave' him a dinner for two at a luxurious restaurant every year (paid by their mother, of course). "Never mind. I shall call the company right now, end this foolishness. Your grandchildren will be repaid in full, of course."

She stood up and blocked him. "Nonsense!" She snatched the tickets from him and read, "Explore! Medieval Westeros: Unique Historical Tour of the Seven Kingdoms... Haven't you always wanted to go on this tour, love?" She smiled sweetly. "I seem to recall that you're passionate about the medieval era."

Tywin cleared his throat. "Yes, but..."

"But?" Olenna prodded, a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised.

He threw up his hands and scowled at her. "I can't leave Casterly Rock for a month and a half, Olenna. My dimwit employees will somehow manage to burn it to the ground-"

She smiled again with a gleam that he didn't particularly like in her eye. "It's all been arranged beforehand, don't you worry. Tyrion and Kevan will take care of your affairs while we're gone." She took his hand. "You need a vacation, Tywin, or you'll work your way into an early grave. Now don't be ridiculous and call my grand-kids to thank them for the good they've done you."

When he stubbornly remained on the bed, she grabbed the phone and stuck it into his hand. "Go on, now."

* * *

**The North**

Arya threw her new suitcase on her bed, wrenching it open, and started throwing in whatever she could find in her drawer. When she had called Explore!, they had told her that some of the hotels where they would be staying would have washers, so she figured that bringing half of her wardrobe was more than enough. She was reaching for a pair of socks when her mobile phone buzzed in her pocket. On her lock screen, a text from Lommy flashed. "Are u sure about this," it said. Arya groaned and unlocked her mobile to reply to him.

"What's wrong again," she typed, adding an angry skull face to convey her exasperation. He had sent her this text at least ten times in the past three days. She wondered if he would continue whinging about this when they would be rolling on the highway.

"I just realised, i'll miss her nameday," replied Lommy with a sad emoticon. Arya groaned again. 'Her' corresponded to Weasel -- Arya always forgot her real name, they had been calling her by that name for so long - a girl in their grade whom Lommy had fancied for the past year. The two were good friends, but Lommy had never quite mustered the courage to confess his feelings to her. "She'll understand," she told him. "She's known for months. Srsly Lom?!!" She put another angry skull face. Unlike Sansa, Arya believed there was no limit to the amount of angry emoticons -- the best virtual expressions in the world -- that you could use in one conversation.

"What if she hates me for this," Lommy texted her back.

"If she does, she's stupid." Any girl worth knowing wouldn't get their knickers in a knot over this - then again, she didn't know Weasel well enough to be guess if she would become offended by this. With a sigh, Arya turned off her cell phone and continued packing, pointedly ignoring the occasional vibration coming from her device. Hot Pie and Lommy were used to her leaving mid-conversation whenever they texted, and anyone else would think that she wasn't currently available. Which was true, in a way -she would be leaving for the airport soon.

A while later, several sharp knocks sounded at her door. Her mother stood in her doorway, looking as anxious as Arya had expected. "Lommy's mum is waiting for you in the driveway," she said. That was her ride to the airport. Arya grabbed her suitcase and dragged it behind her. When she arrived at the top of the staircase, she found the rest of her family standing at its foot. Her father mounted the steps to help her bring down the suitcase despite her vehement protests. Then the rest of the Starks surrounded her and engulfed her into a gigantic group hug. Sansa looked especially tearful, as per her habit, but for once Arya wasn't irritated by this and gladly received her sincere words of farewell. A part of her was smugly satisfied that she had succeeded academically where Sansa had not. She had won the Explore! contest - she and Hot Pie and Lommy together. She wasn't sure if it was Hot Pie's cake of the Red Keep , or the background of Old King's Landing that Lommy had painted, or the long essay she had written about key events having happened in the castle that had swayed the judges in their favour. Either way, she was more than thankful for the opportunity, even though touring medieval castles for a month and a half wasn't really her thing. At least she would get a free comprehensive tour of Westeros in the bargain.

Only her parents accompanied her past the threshold of their house. "Be safe," said her father, embracing her. Her mother pulled her aside as her dad helped load the suitcase into the trunk. "Come back in one piece," she said. Like Sansa, there were tears in her eyes, and Arya realized that this would be the longest period that she had ever stayed away from home. "I will," she said as she climbed into the car, and waved.

* * *

**Dragonstone**

Shireen slid the tray across the table and sat down, swinging her backpack onto her lap. "You look worried," she said to her father, who was frowning intensely at his mobile phone.

Stannis jabbed a finger at the screen. "It's all over the news."

"What?" She picked up a scone and started munching on it.

"Your uncle," said Stannis through gritted teeth. "Renly! He's become head of Baratheon Transport's Stormlands division." His hand curled into a fist. "It's mine by blood and by right. Mine."

Shireen sighed. "Dad, we discussed this, remember? We're on holiday right now."

Her father glowered at his mobile for a moment, then stuffed it into his pocket. "I shouldn't be surprised," he said, falling back against his chair. "Robert always did like Renly better than me. Still..." He caught his daughter's gaze and sighed. "Fine. Pass me a croissant." He held up the pastry and looked carefully at it before taking a bite and grimacing. "Never understood the appeal of these." His cell phone dinged, and he retrieved it from his pocket.

"Who is it now?"

"Melisandre." He sighed. "She sent me another text about R'hllor." Melisandre was Shireen's father's new girlfriend. She had wanted to come on this trip, but luckily Stannis had refused. Shireen suspected that it had to do with the fact that Melisandre walked everywhere with booklets about the Red God for conversion of 'heathens', as she tended to call non-believers.

"When's she leaving for Asshai?" She went there regularly, and new statues of the Red God appeared after every trip.

Stannis shrugged and put down his phone on the table while he finished his croissant. Shireen took the opportunity to peek at his display. "You have three missed calls from Uncle Robert," she said without thinking.

Her father ground his teeth again. "I'm going to block that damn brother of mine."

"Your position as head of the Dragonstone division isn't the worst in the world," pointed out Shireen irritably.

His jaw tightened. "Dragonstone is a tiny island with about two important towns. The Stormlands are an entire region with several cities. Even Robert isn't fool enough to not know this." He glared. "Renly just graduated. He has no experience whatsoever. Robert should know that, too. Should have had enough sense to keep Cortnay Penrose as the head of Stormlands, even if the old man keeps on hiring Robert's bastards. Renly, he'll run the division to the ground, you'll see." He gulped down some coffee. "Oh, Cressen told me that Robert was probably drunk when he made the decision. I don't believe that for a minute. Robert was very, very sober this time. Knew exactly what he was doing." He angrily downed the rest of his drink. Shireen looked at him, beginning to regret not pushing him to bring Melisandre. At least the woman could calm him down.


	2. King's Landing I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's first day in King's Landing brings a lot of surprises. Tywin can't seem to leave work behind him. Stannis is not pleased by recent developments.

 

* * *

 

Arya squinted at the map of King's Landing that they had been given at the airport. "It says that we'll find a subway station here, but there's nothing. Are you sure we followed the right route?" 

 

Lommy shrugged, licking his ice cream cone. "It seemed to work." 

 

"I'll ask someone," offered Hot Pie. 

 

Arya nodded, then turned to Lommy after their companion had departed. "You shouldn't be wasting your money on ice cream," she said impatiently. "It's supposed to last you one month and a half, Lommy." 

 

"Oh, bugger off." He waved a hand. "Isn't the food and drink all included once we join the tour bus? And then I'll only need money for souvenirs and stuff." 

 

She opened her mouth to retort. "You-" 

 

"Hey!" Hot Pie walked up to them, with a tanned couple several footsteps away from him. "I know where to go now. So you turn right, then-" 

 

"Left, actually," the man spoke up. "Then right." He laughed. "We'll be behind you."

 

"Where're you headed?" asked Arya. 

 

"Same as you," said the woman. "Explore! Tours, the one that's leaving in a bit." She smiled at her. "Your friend told me." Hot Pie flushed. "Are you three here alone?" 

 

"Yeah." Arya looked at her warily. 

 

"We're from Dorne." The man grinned at her. "I'm Oberyn, and this is Ellaria. What are your names, mm? If we're going to spend the next few weeks together, we might as well get a head start." 

 

"Arya," she said, deciding that these Dornishmen weren't out to harm them. "This is Hot Pie. Lommy's the one sitting on the floor." 

 

"Pleasure." Oberyn started walking towards the subway station, and the others soon followed suit. "So, is this your first time in King's Landing?" 

 

* * *

 

Olenna was beginning to wonder if travelling with Tywin Lannister was a sound idea. Less than twenty-four hours had passed, and he was already pacing back and forth while criticising one of his employees by mobile. Meanwhile, hordes of tourists were taking photographs, examining their maps, and generally disturbing them. 

 

"No, the black drawer," snapped Tywin over the din. "Yes, that one. Finally! We'll correspond more later. Goodbye." He hung up and sighed. "Halfwits and bums all of them. I told you I should have never come on this trip." 

 

"Tyrion and Kevan will figure it out, Tywin." 

 

"Kevan maybe, but my wayward son will find a way to blow up Casterly Rock. Or turn it into his whorehouse, maybe." Tywin scowled. "Tyrion doesn't know how to administer. He doesn't have the experience." 

 

"Because you never let him. I told you, the man has potential. Let him prove himself." 

 

Tywin snorted. "There are other ways for Tyrion to prove himself without endangering the family business in the process." 

 

Olenna shot him an exasperated look. "Believe me, Tywin, he won't." 

 

"Oh, he'll find a way-" 

 

"Tywin. In all the years that we've worked together, when have I ever been wrong about these sort of matters? Trust me, Casterly Rock is fine. A bit wobbly right now, but it's not even close to tipping over." 

 

* * *

 

"I hate tourists," grumbled Stannis. 

 

Shireen lowered her camera to roll her eyes at him. "Dad, we _are_ tourists." She followed his gaze. "What are these people doing?" A group of travellers from some part of eastern Essos were posing bizarrely while a bemused-looking local snapped pictures of them. 

 

Her father grunted in reply. The Renly affair was obviously still on his mind. Shireen wondered if he would seethe about this perceived slight for the entire trip. She was tempted to take out her mobile phone and complain to Myrcella about this, but realised that it would just sound awkward and whiny over texting. 

 

"Dad," Shireen said, "are we allowed to board the bus now?" It was much hotter in King's Landing than in Dragonstone, and they were still wearing the long trousers and hooded jackets that they had flown to the capital in. At least the bus would have air conditioning -- she hoped. The trip wasn't quite turning out as she had expected. 

 

Stannis frowned. "It says on the paper that we're allowed to board by five o'clock. Yet the door's still closed." 

 

"I think five o'clock is just an estimate." 

 

"If they wrote five o'clock, they should start boarding at five o'clock. Punctuality is very important and should always be respected, no excuses." He walked past her. "I will speak to them." Shireen quickly followed him.

 

They talked to a black-haired young man with bright blue eyes who was standing next to the bus' closed door. Gendry, his name tag read. "Sorry, ser," the tour guide said. "We're only opening the door at five-twenty, I'm afraid." 

 

"The paper says five," said Stannis with narrowed eyes. 

 

"Yes, I know, ser, but we sometimes push off the boarding time when we see that there's only a few people here." They were indeed the only ones, Shireen realized, except for two youths with large backpacks and oily hair chattering animatedly in the shade. Gendry smiled at the two of them. "Sorry again, ser. I can recommend a café where the two of you can sit-" 

 

"No, we'll manage," snapped Shireen's father, walking away briskly. She smiled sheepishly at Gendry before hurrying after him. Once she would have been embarrassed and lectured him about it, but she had long understood that Stannis refused to change. 

 

"Terrible service," Stannis said as they settled on a park bench. "No surprise, considering the boy is one of Robert's." 

 

"What?" 

 

"The boy looks exactly like an adolescent Robert. Seems significantly less cocky, though, but you never know. No wonder Cersei is such a hateful woman. Robert's bastards are all over town." Stannis set his jaw. "I did not need another reminder of that drunk whore monger today." 

 

Shireen dug out paninis from her backpack and tossed one to her father. "We might as well have dinner now," she said, taking another for herself. "It might be a while." 

* * *

 

Oberyn was a very entertaining travel companion, Arya decided. He pointed out buildings as they passed them and told them urban legends having supposedly taken place there, and he talked about his daughters and how they had begged he and Ellaria to take them on this trip. "They're young, though," he said in that strong Dornish accent of his. "They won't appreciate the history behind all these castles and cities, and they'll quickly get bored. So they're in Dorne now, with my brother and his children." 

 

When they arrived at the meeting place, the couple parted ways with the teenagers. "We'll go check the shops," Oberyn had said. 

 

"Window-shopping," Ellaria had said . "Arya, would you like to come?" 

 

Arya had shaken her head. She hated everything associated with shopping. Instead, she, Lommy, and Hot Pie stood under a citrus tree and shared a melting chocolate bar until the cute tour guide shouted that it was time to board the bus. They decided to choose seats in the front, as Lommy wanted to watch the movie playing on the tiny television over the bus driver's seat. 

 

The cute tour guide started speaking when the bus seemed mostly full. "Hi, everyone," he shouted over the sound of the tourists' voices, and the talk generally died down. "I'm Gendry, I'll be taking you on this tour for the next few weeks. This is Tobho-" A middle-aged man donning the same blue polo as Gendry waved from the back. "He'll be your other tour guide. And this is Mya-" The bus driver - a young woman with short black hair and electric blue eyes - turned around and greeted everyone loudly. "She'll be driving us all over the country. Now, a little roll call just to confirm that we're all here." 

 

Arya turned around to look at her companions for the next six weeks. A grouchy-looking man and his daughter, who was close to her age, sat across from her; two boys with acne scars, oily hair, and big backpacks occupied the places behind Lommy and Hot Pie; a fat boy about Jon's age and his mousy-haired girlfriend were sitting next to Ellaria and Oberyn; a stern-faced older man and an energetic-seeming elderly woman stood in the very back of the bus. Arya wanted to peep some more, but by that time Gendry had finished his roll call, so she faced him once again. 

 

"So, a plan of our week," said the young tour guide. "As you might know, we're starting our tour of medieval Westeros in the Old Town of this very city. We'll be spending three days in King's Landing and four nights. Now, don't be disappointed, folks, but we're not going to visit anyplace today-" Some of the passengers mock-groaned. "Yes, I know, very disappointing, but instead Mya will drive us to an excellent restaurant in the Old Town, where you'll have a beautiful view of the Red Keep and the harbour front. The tables have already been assigned-" More groans, this time real, and Arya heard herself joining in. "-so you'll get to know your fellow travellers." Gendry grinned. "Alright, I'll shut up now, let you lot digest these dismal news. Mya, we're ready." The bus started moving. Gendry stumbled a bit with the sudden movement and grabbed the seat closest to him, which happened to be the empty one next to Arya's. He pointed at it and looked at her. "Mind if I sit here?" 

 

She shook her head and turned her head towards the window, where she watched the new part of King's Landing whizz past them. I'm really going to spend the next six weeks with these strangers, she thought with a jolt. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Uncle Tywin!" 

 

Tywin turned around, his hopes of passing unnoticed utterly dashed as Cleos Frey and Lancel Lannister waved at him from the neighbouring table. "Good evening, boys," he said, shooting them a withering look of disdain. He snatched a menu from the centre of the table and started reading it without deigning to meet the young men's gazes. 

 

"Your nephews?" said the Dornishman sitting across from him. Tywin had seen him once at some sort of charity event and was almost certain that he was a Martell. He definitely had the look of one, all hot-tempered and lustful and unreasonable. 

 

"When one calls someone 'uncle', yes, they are usually considered a nephew." Tywin picked up a bread bun from a nearby basket and began buttering it. "Yes, these unwashed vagabonds are my nephews. No, I do not wish to associate with them." He raised an eyebrow at the Dornishman, who was now staring at him pensively. "I did not think that I was in a zoo here." 

 

"Hmm?" The man's eyes gleamed. "I do not understand." 

 

"A monkey in a zoo is to be stared at. Am I a monkey in a zoo? I daresay not." Tywin bit into his piece of bread and stared stonily at it. "This has obviously not been well baked. Not worth my money." 

 

"It wasn't your money, Tywin, it was my grandchildren's, and I'm glad you think it's been put to good use," said Olenna cheerfully. She sniffed around them and held her nose. "My, the stench here is horrid. Too much heat down in King's Landing and, I must say, not nearly enough deodorant. Tywin, dear, help me open the windows." 

 

"I'll help," said the Dornishman, rising from his chair. He opened the windows in question and smiled down at Olenna when he was finished. "Better, Mrs..." 

 

"Tyrell, dear," said Olenna, beaming at him. "And Olenna will suffice." 

 

"Tyrell, as in Tyrell's the food produce company?" said the Dornishman's wife. 

 

"Yes, the very same. My late husband Luthor was CEO. Now it's unfortunately my oaf of a son who's in charge." Olenna sighed comically. "Tough times indeed. What about you two? How do you spend your days in this sorry world?" 

 

The couple exchanged a few suggestful looks. "Oh, we survive," said the man enigmatically. "My family's in the wine industry. Sunspear wines, ever heard of them?"

 

Tywin decided to join the conversation. "So you are a Martell, then?" 

 

The Dornishman turned to him with a little smirk at the edge of his lips. "Yes. Oberyn Martell." He gestured to the woman sitting next to him. "My paramour, Ellaria Sand." He nodded. "And you are Tywin Lannister, yes? CEO of the mighty Casterly Rock?" 

 

Tywin nodded stiffly. "Yes, I am." 

 

"So you're not married, then?" asked Ellaria. 

 

"No, dear." Olenna smiled at her. "We're too old and tired for that, aren't we, Tywin?" She squeezed his hand. "You'll see at our age, dear." She looked up and moved aside just as the waiter slid a plate in front of her. "Oh, thank you, ser." 

 

"Looks delicious," commented Oberyn. "Of course, not as good as the Dornish cuisine." He winked at the two of them, with his gaze lingering on Tywin. "You will understand once we reach Dorne." 

 

"Oh, yes," said Olenna. "And I cannot wait to sample that divine wine of yours. Mm! I'm in paradise just thinking about it. Though of course, we'll need to tour the Crownlands and Stormlands first..." 

 

Tywin's mind began wandering, and he wondered if he could slip away from Olenna's hawk eyes long enough to call Casterly Rock, see how things were being run in his absence. His hand reached into his pocket, and he was confused for a moment before it sunk in that he must have forgotten his mobile phone in his suitcase. He had taken off his jacket and thrown it into his suitcase once they had landed in King's Landing -- yes, he must have forgotten it there... He thought briefly about going to retrieve it before remembering that the tour guides and bus driver were on break too. Then he realized that he would be stuck in this stuffy restaurant with only two raunchy Dornishmen and his sharp-tongued sometimes-girlfriend for the rest of the evening. Gods help me get through this madness, he thought.

 

* * *

 

Arya was smiling and laughing with Doreah and Irri, the international students from Essos, but internally she was boiling angry, with her stomach tied into knots at that. The older girls had politely refused her offer of the three of them sharing their room, though not without reason; Arya wouldn't let a stranger sleep in her room either. However, she currently needed a good soul to lend her part of their room, as or else she would need to sleep in the hotel lobby or perhaps even in the street, and her options were running out. Mya was currently staying with a friend; Gilly was sharing with her newlywed husband, Sam; and Irri and Doreah didn't want her to stay with them. Arya's eyes scanned the restaurant. There was no one else she could ask -- it wasn't as if she could room with the old couple or Ellaria and Oberyn, nice as they were, or Gendry and Tobho the tour guides. Not for the first time, she mentally smacked herself for not thinking about the rooming dilemma in depth. She should have asked for another room, one all to herself. She should have thought about the awkwardness that sharing a room with two teenaged boys when you were a teenage girl entailed (not that she cared, really, but Hot Pie and Lommy and everyone else did). 

 

With a sigh, she said goodnight to the Essosi students and returned to her own table. The Grinch - Arya and her friends had given him that sobriquet after noticing his continued teeth grinding - was still glowering at his mobile phone, which was what he had done during the entire evening. His daughter - she assumed - was staring at her own device, looking as bored as ever. Arya had tried talking to her, but their stilted conversation had led nowhere. Now she looked at the pair with new eyes. The girl was close to her age and seemed friendly enough, if a little dull. The Grinch - well, Arya could figure something out. She walked towards them and returned to her own seat. 

 

"Hey," she said, and the girl lifted her eyes from her cell phone. "Shireen, right?" 

 

"Yeah." Shireen smiled at her. "Arya?" 

 

Arya nodded. "Listen..." She lowered her voice. "Would you mind if we go somewhere more, um, private?" The Grinch's head moved ever so slightly at this, but he still didn't look up. 

 

Shireen's brows knitted together. "Sure," she said. The two of them walked towards the back of the restaurant, where the restrooms were. Arya could feel The Grinch's eyes following her. She tried her best to explain her situation to Shireen and felt that she, like the others, was sympathetic. Arya wondered if she would differ from the other girls by accepting her proposal. 

 

"Well..." Shireen nibbled at her lip. "I'd have to ask my dad." 

 

Arya willed her features to settle into an expression of gratitude. "That'd be perfect. Thanks, Shireen. I'm really grateful for your help, you know." 

 

"It's no problem." Shireen smiled. "So, you'll stay here-?" 

 

"Yeah, I won't budge." Arya waited until the other girl had disappeared before taking out her phone and calling her mother. "Hey, Mum," she said when Catelyn picked up on the third ring. 

 

"Arya!" Her mother sounded worried. "Where are you, sweetling? Are you alright?"

 

"I'm fine." Again she explained her situation. "So I was wondering if I could stay with them," she finished. 

 

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "I don't know, Arya..." said Catelyn with a sigh. "You don't know these people." 

 

"Mum, Shireen and The Grinch won't harm me." 

 

"Shireen?" Catelyn sounded perplexed. "Oh, wait... Shireen Baratheon?" 

 

Arya shrugged. "I didn't ask her last name." 

 

"And your Mr. Grinch," said Catelyn. "Blue eyes, square jaw, black hair? Balding?"

 

"Yeah. And grouchy." 

 

Catelyn gave a relieved laugh. "Sounds like Stannis Baratheon." 

 

"Erm. Is that one of your friends?" 

 

"Robert's brother, actually. You've met him once or twice, though I don't think you remember. Did you talk to him, Arya?" 

 

"No, Mum." 

 

"Well, if you do end up staying with him, I think it would be the ideal solution. Stannis Baratheon is a rigid, blunt man, but he's by no means dangerous. Just don't walk around in your see-through shirt in front of him or only in your panties-"

 

"Mum, Mum, I won't." 

 

"Alright. Keep safe, sweetling. And gods be gracious, thank Stannis Baratheon. It's a great service he's rendering you." 

 

"I know, Mum, I will." 

 

"Well, I suppose that I should hang up now, I wouldn't want this call to cost too much-" Catelyn paused. "Oh, and Rickon and Bran want you to check your email. Goodnight, Arya." 

 

"'Night, Mum."

 

* * *

 

The Stark girl staying with them was inconvenient at best and downright inconsiderate at best. Stupid child, only thinking about this problem at the last minute. Stannis had been of half a mind to refuse her, teach her a lesson or two about self-organization, but Shireen had begged and he, as usual, indulged his daughter. He needed to talk to her sometime, lest she think that he would spoil her continually -- though perhaps this wouldn't prove to be a problem, as Shireen had a good head on her shoulders and could figure it out herself. He was lucky, he thought. Shireen had inherited all of his judgment and none of her mother's overzealous fervor. 

 

Stannis sighed and leaned back, glancing at the Stark girl over his opened book. He had met her at an event once, when she was about eight years old. He remembered her as an unruly girl dirtying her dress by playing cars on the floor with her younger brothers. She hadn't changed much, really, he thought as he watched her head bob up and down to the rythmn of her music. His eyes swung over to the bathroom door, which remained closed. Shireen had been inside for five minutes, and he guessed that she wouldn't finish in a while. "Miss Stark," Stannis called. She made no sign of having heard. "Miss Stark!" He ground his teeth. "Arya!" 

 

She pulled off her headphones and frowned at him. "Yeah, Mr. Baratheon?" 

 

"Tell me about your plan." 

 

"Er, what?" 

 

"You're not planning on staying with us infinitely, I hope?" 

 

She scowled. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Baratheon, but there's nowhere else for me to stay at the moment." 

 

"You should be making arrangements with the company," he snapped. "Not idly listening to raucous music. I can hear it from here." 

 

The Stark girl's eyes flashed. "I already told them. They said that they would try to book a room for me when they could, but in some of the hotels it would probably be hard as they're already booked full by now." 

 

Stannis didn't like the way she was glowering at him. He gave a noncommittal grunt and returned to his book. Disrespectful child. He grimaced when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "It better not be Robert," he muttered. He deigned to look at the display. His eyes widened. He stood up and quickly slipped on his shoes without meeting the Stark girl's gaze. Then he opened the door and closed it lightly behind him, quickening his pace as he caught sight of the lifts.

 

Back in the Baratheons' room, Shireen emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair dripping fat drops of water against her shoulders. She frowned when she saw that her father had disappeared. "Hey," she said to Arya. "Did he say where he went?" 

 

She shrugged sullenly. Shireen decided not to worry. Her father often disappeared suddenly like this whenever they spent time together, especially on holiday, and would return soon. If not, well, she could search for him. 

 

Several floors below, Stannis had hastily locked himself in a bathroom stall. His fingers shook as he hurriedly unlocked his phone and clicked on his text messages. A few pictures of a very scantily clad Melisandre greeted him. Something resembling a smile formed on Stannis' face. He dialled up his girlfriend's number. "Melisandre," he said when she picked up. 

 

"M'lord," she whispered breathlessly. "Your Grace..." 

 


	3. King's Landing II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tourists visit the Red Keep. Arya ponders over the lives of historical figures. Oberyn gets to the point. Stannis can't even browse through a book in peace.

* * *

 

Arya wasn't even trying to suppress her yawns. She had barely slept during the previous night: Shireen, whom she had shared a bed with, had spent the better part of the night hogging the covers and kicking her, and when she stilled Arya would be disturbed by Stannis' teeth grinding and snoring. Arya planned on purchasing earplugs and an eye-covering mask when the bus returned to the hotel. Perhaps they would help; if not, well, she should be able to get used to the Baratheons by the time the tour left King's Landing. Four nights would be sufficient... 

 

"Jet lag?" said Gendry, flopping onto the seat next to her.   

 

She shook her head. King's Landing was two time zones away from her home in Winter's Town, but two hours made little difference for her. "No, noisy roommates." She yawned. 

 

"Tell me about it," laughed the young tour guide. He lowered his voice. "I'm rooming with Tobho, and gods can that man snore! I dunno how I'll survive this tour, really." 

 

"Haven't you toured with him before?" asked Arya. 

 

"Nah. Explore! paired me up with different people, before. I was with Mya one year, though." 

 

Arya wondered if the two were together. They seemed quite comfortable with each other and made for an attractive couple, if they were one. Not that she knew much about dating. The closest she had come to that stuff was a slobbery kiss at a birthday party from Hot Pie. It had been a dare, and the entire affair was so awkward that they hadn't spoken to each other for a week. "Have you been working here for long?" 

 

Gendry scratched his head. "Hmm... About three years? Why?" 

 

"Just wondering." Arya sat back, stifling another yawn, and wondered when they would arrive and if there was a coffee shop near their destination. She didn't feel like falling asleep while walking all over King's Landing. 

 

Two seats away from them, Tobho stood up and tapped on his microphone to catch the passengers' attention. "We're now approaching the Red Keep," he called, "which is at the left. If you look closely, you will see the Tower of the Hand. We'll visit that iconic building after going through the Great Hall, which, you might recall, houses the infamous Iron Throne..." 

 

Some time later, Arya felt a tap on her shoulder. A long shudder ran along her spine, and she jerked awake, staring confusedly at Gendry before remembering where she was. "We're here?" she said, her voice cracked and hoarse from sleep. 

 

"Yeah." Gendry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to wake you. You looked like you were sleeping really soundly." 

 

Arya's eyes darted around her, and she realized with dismay that the bus was deserted save for her, Gendry, and Mya, who was listening to the wireless. "Where's everyone?" She scowled. "Why did you let me oversleep? I've probably missed the tour already, haven't I?" 

 

Gendry held up his hands. "Hey, hey! First of all, you missed probably only about five minutes. Ten minutes, at the most. Second, it took me several tries to wake you up, and me and Tobho decided that I would stay with you until you woke up to avoid delaying the tour." He sighed. "Don't assume, okay?" 

 

"Fine," said Arya a little too snappily. She grabbed her backpack and rose from her seat. "Will we get going, then?" 

 

The two of them exited the bus and walked in silence towards the entrance of the Red Keep, where they crossed a metal detector and a bag checker. "Security these days," grumbled Gendry as he re-fastened his belt and adjusted his pants following a pat-down by a grumpy security guard. 

 

Arya harrumphed. They continued towards the Great Hall, where Tobho was still telling stories of happenings in the throne room. "So you're awake," whispered Hot Pie as she joined him and Lommy. 

 

"Obvious," snorted Lommy. "'Else she wouldn't be here." He looked at Arya. "You look like a pig when you sleep." 

 

Arya punched his arm lightly, not amused. She thought she saw Gendry sniggering in his fist. "Shut up," she hissed to Lommy. "I'm not in a good mood, alright?"

 

Lommy frowned at her. "Okay, whatever." 

 

She crossed her arms and glared at the floor. 

 

* * *

 

"Shocking, isn't it?" 

 

Martell had somehow crept up on him without him noticing. Tywin cursed old age for his lack of reflexes. Or was it the Dornishman who made no sound as he moved? "What?" he almost barked. 

 

"The story that Tobho told us, in the last room." They were walking around in the Tower of the Hand and had just left the dark hallway leading up to the latrine. "The Lord of Casterly Rock who died on the privy," clarified Martell. "You know, the one shot by his own son?" 

 

"Oh, yes, that." Unfortunate event, really. Tywin pitied his ancestor for his lack of insight. According to the histories, the Warden of the West and two-time Hand of the King had mistreated his son, the Imp, for years. He should have expected retribution at one point, especially after condemning him to death for a murder he supposedly did not commit. 

 

"I wonder what the mighty lord thought as he died there," said Martell, stroking his small beard. "Terrible way to go." 

 

Tywin grunted. "Do you have a point?" he said coolly, not in the mood to discuss the fates of long-dead Lannisters, especially ones who had died in their own feces. "Or will you continue pestering me endlessly for the duration of this trip?" 

 

Martell smiled. "Now we're talking." He moved aside to let the Dothraki savages pass. The bedchamber of the Hand was empty now, and Tywin could hear Tobho the tour guide speaking enthusiastically in the next room. "It's about your security guard, Gregor Clegane." 

 

"What about him?" Loyal man, as long as Tywin gave him his fair share of gold and men to make disappear (once in a while, obviously, as one couldn't overindulge in this tactic). Clegane did tend to cause him problems every so often, but Tywin knew which strings to pull. If Martell was blackmailing him, he'd dig up something, he had Casterly people for that. 

 

"I see him every time I go to King's Landing," said Martell. "I would rather not, if you see what I mean." 

 

Tywin gave him a cold look. "If you do not wish to see him, then do not look. What else do I want you to tell you? He is with me whenever I go to King's Landing for business affairs." This time, he had left him at Casterly Rock with Kevan, as Clegane's presence during the tour would only encumber them all. 

 

"I see him whenever I go to Elia's, you see. My sister." 

 

"I know who your sister is." Didn't they all? The tabloids had loved the story: the Martells' precious princess and Rhaegar Targaryen - son of a madman, heir to an enormous fortune and estate, breeder of exotic animals - divorced amid the scandal of him entertaining a mistress and bastard son. As if the Targaryen name hadn't been stained forever when Aerys was convicted of burning two Starks travelling in King's Landing. Rhaegar had always been a foolish boy. Tywin was glad that he and Cersei hadn't married like they were supposed to. The Lannister name shouldn't have to suffer from the delusions of a psychopath and the grandiose dreams of his son. 

 

"Well, Gregor Clegane is always there. Watching her, trying to see through the drapes. Leaving lecherous messages." Martell's eyes hardened. "I want him gone." 

 

"You expect me to tell him that?" 

 

"No. I have the evidence." 

 

Tywin stared at him. "Then, by all means, prosecute. What are you waiting for?" 

 

Martell had the shadow of a wry smile on his lips. "I want the confirmation that Casterly Rock won't back him when the time comes." 

 

"A large favor you ask of me," said Tywin after a thoughtful pause. "And a large favor I can grant you, if you pay me the right price." 

 

* * *

Stannis was perusing a particularly tedious volume about the War of the Five Kings and, more specifically, the Lord of Dragonstone at the time when the doors of the Red Keep's museum boutique slammed open. A tall, burly man with hideous burn scars emerged from them, and he reached Stannis before the director of the Dragonstone division could walk away. "Where's Tywin Lannister?" he snarled.

 

"I have no idea," he snapped. Stannis had met the man on several occasions, during meetings between Casterly Rock and Baratheon Transport, and he had seen him on the tour, but he was in no mood to help men seeking him, particularly one who was rude and angry. 

 

The man pointed at the sticker on his lapel. "You're part of the same tour and you have no fucking idea where he's at?" He laughed, a ragged, hoarse sound. "You lost or something, ser?" His lip curled. 

 

"I am not lost," said Stannis coldly, "and I suggest that you stop harassing me at this instant." 

 

He laughed again. "The fuck do you think you are? President of Westeros?" He raised his voice. "We got a fucking president over here!" 

 

"Ser." A clerk walked up to him. "Ser, we're going to have to ask you to leave, foul language is not tolerated in this establishment-" 

 

"Establishment, eh? Fucking establishment! Fucking fancy words you're using, think you're better than me?" He spat on the floor. "Well, fuck this establishment, fuck you." He turned to Stannis. "And fuck you, too. I'm getting out of here." He stomped out, slamming the doors so hard that Stannis thought the glass would shatter. Several patrons stared after him in shock. 

 

"Are you fine, ser? Was he bothering you for long?" asked the clerk, clearly worried that his business was going to suffer from this. 

 

Stannis waved him away. "I am not afraid of men with more anger in them than sense." 

 

A blond youth with glistening hair approached him. "Ser," he said, visibly disquieted, "Do you know who that was?" 

 

"No, and I don't wish to." 

 

The boy's companion, a thin young man with stringy brown hair, spoke in a hushed voice. "Man, that's Sandor Clegane. He was in Qarth." 

 

"Boy," said Stannis through gritted teeth, "I fought in Qarth many years ago. Are you insinuating that we're all like him?" 

 

The blond boy shook his head. "No, ser, but they say he was dishonorably discharged. For doing vile things, some say. He's a bloody lethal warrior." 

 

"And he works for the Lannisters now," said the other. "I wouldn't mess with the Lannisters, personally, ser." 

 

"'Specially not Un - Tywin Lannister." The blond one looked genuinely terrified for him.

 

Stannis dug out his wallet and started towards the counter with the book that he was reading before the arrival of the Qartheen veteran. "Tywin Lannister," he said, "is not a man I fear." And he left them there, with their mouths undoubtedly agape.

 

* * *

 

"Explore! Tours, over here, with me!" shouted Tobho over the voices of the hundreds of tourists swarming around the Great Sept of Baelor and its surrounding square. Arya stood on her tiptoes to see the sept. Its towers were visible from her current location, but that was all she could see. She pushed her way towards the front to listen to what Tobho was saying. 

 

"The Great Sept of Baelor was constructed during the reign of Baelor the Blessed," Tobho said. "If you remember well, he's the one who built the Maidenvault to imprison his sisters in order to, er, quell his carnal desires. Here you can see a statue of the very man," Arya looked up and stared at the benevolent face carved of stone. All she remembered about him was that, according to her teacher, he had been so religious that he'd let the nobles rule him. Arya had never been interested in this sort of king. She preferred the type that dealt with death and devastation and war, like the Whoremonger King who'd fathered several dozens of bastards all over the realm and Aegon the Conqueror who'd united the realm and took the Iron Throne for his with his sisters and dragons. Her mind drifting, she took several photographs of what she could see of the sept and the adjacent square until she heard Tobho say, "... and this is where Lord Eddard Stark was beheaded." 

 

Arya scrambled to her feet. "Eddard Stark?" she said. "The one who fought in Robert's Rebellion?" 

 

"The very same." Tobho pointed to the steps of the sept. "The boy king known as Aerys the Third gave the order here, against the advice of his councillors the Queen Regent and the Spider, an eunuch from Essos. Lord Stark himself thought that he would be sent to the Wall for his 'treason', as they called it at the time. Instead," Tobho paused dramatically, "the King's Justice drew his own greatsword through his neck, in full view of the smallfolk, several courtiers, and his young daughter." 

 

Arya nodded, walking past her fellow passengers to get a better look at the square. On the steps of the sept she found two familiar faces, and she felt irrationally indignant. "You can't take a selfie here!" she said to Lommy and Hot Pie. 

 

"Says who?" retorted Lommy. "Don't see no sign saying that." 

 

Hot Pie blinked at her, then at Lommy. "Oh," he said loudly. "That Stark bloke, he's like your great-great-great grandfather or summat, right?" 

 

"Arya," said Lommy, "you do know that this happened hundreds 'n hundreds of years ago?" He frowned at her. "Didn't you take a picture of that privy where that Hand of the King died? People die everywhere, Arya. Doesn't mean you can't take pictures of them places." 

 

Arya knew that he had a point, but she felt, irrationally, that the long-dead Stark merited some respect, especially after dying in such a way. His daughter had been watching, Arya suddenly thought, remembering Tobho's speech. The beheaded man could have very well been her father, if this was another life. She wondered how she would survive, watching her father executed, and shuddered at the thought. "Just... Don't post it all over Facebook and Instagram," she said. "Please." 

 

The boys gave her strange looks. "Alright," said Lommy. "Whatever you say." 

 

Arya continued to climb the steps of the sept, trying to wash away the chill coming over her. She wondered if Eddard Stark's ghost still haunted this plaza. She wondered what had happened to his daughter after she witnessed his beheading. She wondered if the histories even bothered mentioning what happened to those who stayed on. 


	4. Dragonstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olenna and Tywin talk strategy to others and each other. Arya's nicknaming habit backfires on her; a chance encounter does not. Stannis deals with family and work issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and the reviews! Unfortunately I never finished this story and don't intend to revisit it anytime soon, but I figured I'd post the remaining two parts here. Who knows, maybe I'll come back to this story once I finish a few current ones.

Olenna rather disliked Dragonstone the moment they set foot onto the island. Cold, dreary place that made her bones ache and creak. She said as much to Tywin, who glanced at her for a moment but otherwise showed no indication of having heard her. She had grown used to these silences; this time, she had narrowed it down to the Martells. "You're letting these Dornishmen get to you," she observed. 

 

Tywin snorted. "Certainly not. I'm in the midst of a business transaction." He poured her some wine. They were resting inside a small inn with a splendid view of the island's beach, where most of their fellow passengers were snapping pictures and walking along the coast. "What do you know of Oberyn Martell?" 

 

Olenna sipped at her drink. "I've known his family since I was a girl." Born and raised in the Arbor, she had known the Martells as the Redwynes' bitter rivals who regularly used underhanded tactics to gain the wine monopoly in Westeros. "The man himself, I've met before at events. Charming and keen, yes, but very, very confident. Hot-blooded. The typical Dornishman." She paused. "But you know this all, of course. Cutting straight to the chase, what does he want with Casterly Rock?" 

 

His eyes gleamed. "You've succeeded admirably so far," he said, looking quite satisfied. "Why don't you guess, as you are so adept at doing." 

 

Olenna smiled. "Oh, I don't need to do that," she said. "I know Doran Martell. He wouldn't sent Oberyn to negociate. Too much of a liability. Who could predict if the mad bastard would get drunk over negociations, or get into a fistfight with a poor fellow who looked at him wrong? No, Martell is not here for a partnership. He wants something far more rewarding to him than business." She put aside her drink. "A Casterly employee, perchance?"

 

"Very good." Tywin steepled his fingers and tucked them under his chin. "I'll spare you from any further guessing and fill in the rest." 

 

She waved a hand. "Oh, please don't. This half-daft old lady is starting to enjoy herself." She patted his arm, and he glared down at her. "Now, Tywin, don't give me that look. I know very well that you're bursting to tell me the rest." She smiled. "We all know how much you love it when information that you already know is stated repeatedly, don't we?" 

 

Tywin glared at her and immediately did what she had expected. "I thought it better for you to know," he said sternly. "I hope you appreciate." As if he were doing her a favor. Olenna felt slightly amused. 

 

"Oh, of course I do," she exclaimed. "Thank you, Tywin, thank you. I do enjoy it when you humor a clueless old hag such as myself." 

 

A waiter stopped at their table. "Your bill, ser?" he said to Tywin. 

 

"Yes." Tywin waited until the waiter was gone to reply to her. "The deal with Martell is going smoothly, up to now." 

 

"Then why the worry?" Olenna grinned. "You should celebrate, no? Order some more wine!" 

 

"Martell will honor his part of the agreement," said Tywin. "I've made sure of that. He knows that if he doesn't pay the price, he will finish worse than he started. I mentioned the Starfall campaign to him. That was two years ago, but Casterly can still press charges." The Starfall publicity campaign had featured a tagline suspiciously similar to one of Casterly's, but the company had decided not to take action, as they'd needed Sunspear's partnership. "I also briefly mentioned several other incidents that could put the Martells and specifically Oberyn in a rather precarious situation." He snatched the bill from the waiter as he arrived and whipped out his MasterCard. "You take this card here," he said to the waiter, fixing him with his cold eyes. 

 

"No, ser." The waiter bowed his head, clearly scared. "I'm deeply sorry, ser." 

 

"You should be." Tywin handed him several bills. "I want all my change back. Thank you." He turned to Olenna. "As I was saying... It's not Martell that will be a problem. It's Clegane. You know him." 

 

"Unpredictable. Still," mused Olenna, "there must be a way to keep him in line." 

 

"Not family," said Tywin, ticking off his fingers. "Not money. If he's to be brought to court, his solicitor will urge him to tell the truth." 

 

Olenna looked at him carefully. "I never knew you to be a man afraid of the truth, Tywin." 

 

Tywin's eyes hardened. "I'm not afraid of the truth," he said snappily. "I am merely trying to minimize the damages that it will inflict on those affected by it." 

 

* * *

 

To: Arya Stark (wolfgirl123@quikmail.wes) 

From: Bran Stark (threeeyedraven5@quikmail.wes) 

Cc: Rickon Stark (shaggydog11@quikmail.wes) 

Subject: :D 

 

You might think you're getting rid of us (AKA your really annoying little brothers), but we don't think so. 

 

Here's a list of videos to watch instead: (links) 

 

Do watch them at FULL VOLUME when you're with your tour guide. It makes for a stimulating experience that everyone can enjoy. 

 

Rickon wants to add: GO WESTEROS!! (He bought all the flags for the World Cup. He says you should paint your face in the flag colors, OR ELSE. Listen to Rickon, he knows what's best for you.) 

 

Well, goodbye, sis. Have fun!! :))) ;)) 

 

I really shouldn't do this, thought Arya as she clicked on the first link. She lowered the volume and tore off her headphones. The video-viewing site YouPlay opened on her phone, and the video itself loaded before she could read the title of the file. A screaming, ghastly wight with green skeletal features and empty eye sockets appeared in front of her. Her strident voice resonated throughout her part of the restaurant even though Arya had put the intensity to minimum volume. Several passengers whipped around to glare at her, especially the green-eyed old guy with a deep voice and Stannis Baratheon. "Sorry," she muttered as she hastily muted her device. 

 

"Why were you looking at that, anyway?" Hot Pie wanted to know. 

 

"Link from my brothers," grumbled Arya. "It was stupid, opening it." 

 

"Try opening something like this in the middle of the night," said Lommy. "I found a link on Faceteros and clicked on it, it was dead dark outside, and I near died of fright." He shivered. "Couldn't sleep without the light on for at least a week after that."

 

Hot Pie laughed. "You're such a pansy, Lom." 

 

Lommy flipped him off. Arya rolled her eyes and asked Stannis Baratheon to pass her the salt. He clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes at her, and slid the salt shaker towards her. At least she wouldn't be staying with them until the tour reached Sunspear, which would take several days, close to a week even. She shook some salt onto her potatoes and put the container back in the center of the table. 

 

"How'd you like the castle?" Shireen asked her. She was sitting next to her in the buffet,  but they hadn't spoken since the past morning. 

 

"I liked the Red Keep better," said Arya. "But the gargoyles were pretty cool." She was feeling quite full now, even though she had only had a plate of potatoes and pizza. I should start eating a balanced diet, she thought, but the temptation of gorging herself on fruits and salad was not as strong as that to eat as much junk food as possible without an adult lecturing her. 

 

Shireen nodded. "I really love the architecture, though. It's just so eerie." She drank the rest of her soft drink. "All those stone faces just staring with dead eyes. Just gets to me, you know?" 

 

Arya was surprised. She had classified her as the type of girl who liked pretty princesses' castles and handsome knights -- kind of like Sansa. Maybe Shireen wasn't a complete bore after all. "Hey, aren't you from Dragonstone?" 

 

"Yeah. We don't live in the castle, obviously, though." She laughed. "I can't imagine living in there, especially if I were a child growing up in that creepy old place. No wonder the last Lord of Dragonstone abandoned it and had a new castle built elsewhere at the end of the Dark Ages." 

 

From across the table, Lommy and Hot Pie had started another conversation, and Arya caught that the gist of it was gossip concerning the members of their tour. "... I wonder why the Grinch does that so much," commented Lommy as Stannis ground his teeth for the umpteenth time while gazing at his phone. "Can't be good for his teeth, that's for sure." 

 

Arya felt the tips of her ears redden. She looked to see if Shireen had heard. Hopefully Lommy wouldn't implicate her in the conversation -- 

 

"I think even the real Grinch doesn't do that as much," said Lommy. "What'd you think, Arya?" 

 

Arya blushed even more, her mind racing. If she said yes to Lommy, Shireen would know that they were calling Stannis 'The Grinch' behind his back. If she didn't answer Lommy, he would know that something was up and would question her mercilessly until she admitted to giving him the nickname. There was really no way she could win, so she chose to say nothing. 

 

An awkward silence descended upon the four of them. Hot Pie looked confused. Lommy was staring at Arya. Shireen was staring at Arya and at the two boys. Arya was looking at no one in particular. 

 

Shireen was the first to break the silence. Her cheeks were reddening. "You're unbelievable," she said quietly. "After all we did for you, you're giving my dad dirty names and talking about him behind his back-" She looked at her scornfully. "I should've known." She swung her bag over her shoulders and made for the bathroom.

 

Lommy stared at Arya. "Gods, you fucked that up," he laughed. 

 

Arya was very much in the mood to punch him, but she was almost an adult and needed to act her age, at least in a public area where all the passengers of the tour bus would be watching. Instead she sighed and said, "Should I go after her?" 

 

"No," said a somber voice from farther along the table. Stannis' blue eyes locked with hers, his face devoid of any expression. "That would be my responsibility." He stood up and swiftly walked towards the bathroom. Arya would only realize afterwards that, this time, he neither ground his teeth nor clenched his jaw. 

 

* * *

 

"I'm fine," said Shireen as soon as Stannis walked into the ladies' room. 

 

Stannis felt uncomfortable entering the opposite sex's restroom, but he had a duty towards his daughter and certain rules needed to be bent for that. "You're not 'fine'," he said, "or else you wouldn't be here." He wondered if he had said the wrong thing. He had never been gifted at consoling people, especially teenage girls. 

 

Shireen laughed dryly and looked away from the mirror for a moment to stare at him. She seemed a little teary-eye, but otherwise there was no indication that she had been affected by the Stark girl's comments. "It doesn't bother you," she said, "whatever they say?" 

 

"No," said Stannis, "I do not fancy myself a furry green beast, at least not yet. And even if I were, it wouldn't vex me, as it would only be the truth." He frowned. "Though I suppose I should answer the boy's queries about my teeth grinding. The thought of him laying awake at night, musing about my more unfavorable habits, rather disturbs me more than it should." 

 

The corners of Shireen's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Oh, Dad," she said. If they were any other father-daughter pair Shireen would have hugged or kissed him, but since it was Stannis she merely smiled at him. 

 

"And the Stark girl," he said, face as solemn as ever. "Arya. Would you like me to speak to her?" He had neither been insulted by what the girl's friends had said, nor offended that she called him the Grinch behind his back, but Shireen had taken offense to these things, and he'd be damned if she hurt his daughter without retribution. "She could be urged to find new roommates." 

 

Shireen shook her head. "It's okay, Dad. I can fight my battles on my own." 

 

"If you say so." The restroom was starting to stink, and a loo flushed from the last stall. Stannis was about to suggest that they leave when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Let me just take this call." He exited the room and pressed on the 'answer' option. "Hello. Stannis Baratheon here." 

 

"Stannis, ser," said Davos. "Sorry to disturb you, but there's a problem in the office." 

 

"What is it?" Stannis ground his teeth. 

 

"It's Melisandre, ser." 

 

"Yes?" He tensed. 

 

"The directors, we all went to this restaurant to celebrate Pylos' birthday. And Melisandre started talking about the Lord of Light again..." 

 

Stannis clenched his jaw. "Go on, Davos." 

 

"As you wish. Then Cressen, you know him, started arguing with her about religion. At the end Cressen's face was covered in scratches and Melisandre's plates were thrown all over the floor. Not pretty. The restaurant kicked us out, and now the press is swarming all over us-" 

 

Stannis felt a headache beginning to pound at him. "Keep them out as best as you can. What has happened to Cressen and Melisandre?" 

 

"They were both detained at the local station for a while for disrupting the calm. I had to bail them out." Davos sighed. "Robert's not happy, Stannis." 

 

"Robert," Stannis snorted. "I could present Robert with the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, all the riches in the world, and he would still look at me with those bloodshot eyes of his and tell me that I came too late. The Others take Robert." He glanced at his wristwatch. "I will speak to Melisandre and Cressen once the tour arrives at the hotel. In the meantime, Davos, act accordingly and prevent these incidents from happening again, especially with those two. Cressen is unsightly enough as it is, and Melisandre's zeal doesn't need to grow any more. A step further and she will start burning us all as infidels." 

 

"Yes. And, ser?" 

 

"Yes?" Stannis gritted his teeth. "Don't tell me that another brawl is underway?" 

 

"Serving sometimes means telling hard truths, ser." 

 

"Spare me from your philosophy today, Davos. The tour is leaving the restaurant in five minutes."

 

"Alright. Well, a guest arrived from the Reach." 

 

"What do they want?" 

 

"She," said Davos, sounding almost apologetic, "brought photographs of you. Said it would be a shame if they were released to the press. Stannis, I must say I agree." 

 

Stannis suddenly remembered a drunken night -- his only drunken night -- when he had bedded a woman whom he had met at a charity event. It had been shortly after the divorce; Selyse was threatening he and Shireen after losing custody of her; he hadn't been himself. When he had woken up in the morning, his head fuzzy from the hangover, the woman had already slipped away. He had never felt more like Robert than in that moment. 

 

"She wanted something, I gather," said Stannis. He still remembered her vaguely, the sweet lies she had whispered to him, how she had flattered, at his weakest, the one man who couldn't be flattered. 

 

"Yes, in fact, Margaery Tyrell would like you to highly reconsider Baratheon Transport's stance on project Growing Strong." 

 

* * *

 

Tywin knew Olenna too well to even consider that her putting her granddaughter on speakerphone was an accident. If she had done that, it was because she wanted him to hear. He stopped on the way to their bed to pour himself a glass of mineralized water and listened to the ongoing conversation. 

 

"... For the Mother's sake, dear, why did you choose to blackmail Stannis Baratheon  of all people?" Olenna was saying. "Why not Robert, or even Renly?" 

 

"I had the opportunity with Stannis, Grandmother. I took it," said Margaery defensively. 

 

Olenna clucked her tongue. "When did I teach you to be so rash, Margaery? For the Seven's sake, withdraw your proposition. Apologize. Do something-" 

 

"It'll make me look weak." Margaery's tone was cool now. "It'll make us look weak." 

 

"Weak we may seem, but Stannis Baratheon will tear us to the ground if you don't backtrack. He will destroy all that your grandfather has created-" 

 

"He will tear us to the ground with or without the proposition," said Margaery. For the first time, she sounded slightly miserable. As miserable as Margaery Tyrell could sound, anyway, thought Tywin derisively. 

 

"Not if you can get to Davos Seaworth. He's more moderate than Stannis. He'll accept negociations." Olenna had dropped her harmless facade completely by now. "I will tell you all there is to know about the man, so that this time, you may actually get it done right. You've disappointed me greatly, Margaery." 

 

"I'm sorry, Grandmother." She really did sound sorry, unlike Tywin's own grandchildren, who looked at him sullenly when he told them off. Especially Joffrey, who had the brashness to mouth off at him from time to time. 

 

"Very well. You do your homework now, dear. I'll call you back when I have the time." Olenna hung up, then looked at Tywin, shaking her head. "I trusted her too much. Margaery's still young, prone to judgmental errors."

 

"What did you tell her, precisely?" Tywin held up the bottle of mineralized water. "Would you like some?" 

 

"No. Where's the Arbor wine?" 

 

Tywin looked at her pointedly. "You know I won't stand for wine in my hotel room." His father had been a drunk, and now his son was a drunk whoremonger equal only to Robert Baratheon. Tywin knew that the affliction was in him too, and as such he limited his drinks minutely.

 

"Oh, yes." Olenna sighed. "Give me some of that water, then." 

 

He passed her a glass, and they sat on the side of their bed, side by side. "I should probably consider it an accomplishment that my granddaughter managed to lure Stannis into bed at all," she commented. 

 

Tywin wasn't sure what was more disturbing: the thought of Stannis Baratheon in bed, or that of Olenna's granddaughter seducing a man old enough to be her father. "What is done is done, Olenna." He wasn't interested in pursuing a conversation about Stannis Baratheon's nocturnal activities. "What was the purpose of this, anyway?"

 

Olenna sighed. "We offered a partnership to Baratheon Transport a few months ago. Project Growing Strong. You might know." 

 

"Yes." Tywin served on the company's board of directors. He knew a thing or two about its current happenings. "And they refused." 

 

"Exactly. So I sent Margaery to convince them to reconsider. They weren't open to further negociations." Olenna sipped at her drink. "We decided then to use alternative methods." 

 

"By the form of blackmailing Stannis Baratheon?" 

 

"Oh, we agreed that it should be a high-enough ranking executive. It was too hard to get close to Robert, or even Jon Arryn. I told Margaery to best exercice her judgment in finding the candidate." Olenna shook her head. "She's only twenty-two. I should have known." 

 

"I will try to speak to Davos," said Tywin. "I may convince him." 

 

"Stannis holds Davos in high regard, that's certainly true," Olenna said. "But I fear that we've put Stannis on a course from which he won't turn away." 

 

* * *

 

Card in hand, Arya walked out of the lift and turned towards the reception counter. "Hi," she said. "I was wondering if I could have a towel? My room doesn't have any." They had only left her the short ones and the one you were supposed to use as a shower mat. 

 

"Of course," said the woman working at the reception. "A moment, please." 

 

Arya nodded and leaned on her elbows as she waited, still clutching the card tightly in one hand. She was deathly afraid of losing it, as she was terribly disorganized, and cursed the fact that she hadn't even brought a wallet to put it in. Four days into the trip and her lack of preparation was already glaringly obvious. She hoped that she would survive until they arrived at the Wall in six weeks. 

 

"Hey," said a familiar voice behind her. Gendry stood next in line, and he was dripping wet, a towel around his shoulders, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks. Arya tried to subtly peek at his muscled chest. It was really nice. She wondered if he had a girlfriend, thought about Mya again, and then tried to chase the thought from her mind. He was her tour guide, for the Mother's sake, and probably around five years older than her. She wasn't going to become Sansa. 

 

"Hey. Listen-" 

 

"-No, I'm sorry-" 

 

"-I shouldn't have accused you-" 

 

They looked at each other and laughed. "Look at the two of you," teased Mya, who was leaning on the wall in thongs and a drenched bikini, "You're practically Ulthoans." The inhabitants of Ulthos, a faraway previous Westerosi colony, were famously polite. Reputedly, they apologized for everything. 

 

"Well, I guess we can put that behind us now," said Gendry with a smile. 

 

"Yeah." Arya pointed at his swimsuit and towel. "So why're you here?" 

 

"Tobho, the bastard, dropped our card in the swimming pool," grumbled Gendry. "Then it ended up getting sucked up by some sort of mecanism. Tobho's still there trying to retrieve it -- can't imagine he'll actually succeed -- and I'm here about to ask for help." 

 

"The question is," said Mya, sounding quite amused, "how did he ever think putting your room card in his pockets while swimming was a good idea?" 

 

The woman at the reception returned and handed Arya a towel. "You can come back if you want more," she said. 

 

"Thank you." Arya was holding her card even harder than before after hearing Gendry's story. She turned towards him and Mya. "I'll go upstairs. Goodnight." 

 

"Goodnight to you too," called out Mya. 

 

"See you tomorrow," said Gendry. 

 

Arya pressed on the 'up' button and waited for the lift to come. When the lift finally arrived, the older woman with bright eyes walked out, her mobile phone pressed to her ear. "I have to go now, dear," she said when she caught sight of Arya. "Bye." She locked eyes with Arya. "Hello, dear. Sorry for holding up the lift." She held the door for her as she entered. 

 

"Thanks," said Arya. "And no problem." 

 

Olenna waited until the lift had disappeared to resume her call. "Oh, Loras," she sighed. "Why didn't you tell me about you and Renly earlier?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to check out my tumblr, @celestialcollectionaus (so my name here without the numbers).


	5. Storm's End/Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis and Davos work together to solve a concerning problem. Arya makes new, possibly powerful friends. Oberyn moves on to his next grouchy target. Tywin deals with a situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full chapter that I wrote for this.

**Storm's End**

 

Stannis impatiently drummed his fingers against the countertop. The service at Storm's End Café was terrible, and he fully intended to complain about it online, when they reached the inn. To add to its expanding list of faults, it had no air conditioning, was overcrowded, and offered a menu filled with typos. When he had told that to Shireen, she had laughed, then gone outside to take more pictures. At the same moment, he had spotted Arya Stark and her ragtag friends entering the café. He knew his daughter; she wasn't confrontational and would definitely avoid speaking to the young Stark until she was certain that all conflicts had ceased. 

 

"Your drinks, ser," said the waiter, handing him the two iced teas that he had ordered. Then the server had the affront to ask him to put in a good word about the café on Travel Adviser. 

 

"Oh, I'll put in a word," said Stannis. Several, of course, though not the kind he and his employer undoubtedly wanted. He found a table at the end of the establishment, purposely close to the Stark girl. He supposed that she noticed the proximity too, as she glanced at him several times. Stannis didn't care. He had other matters to deal with first. He checked his emails; there were three unread messages in his inbox, from Melisandre, Davos, and Renly. Melisandre wanted to convert new interns that Davos had brought in, but was hesitating because the latter had told her to keep work and religion separate. Stannis marked her email; he would reply to her later. Davos gave him several updates, notably that Margaery Tyrell was offering to open negociations again. And Renly sent him links to articles about Cressen and Melisandre's brawl in the restaurant. Stannis marked Melisandre's email and deleted Renly's, and then went to text Davos. He preferred calling, but didn't particularly want to open the door to potential eavesdroppers. 

 

I received your email. 

 

Davos answered right away. So we will not report her, then? 

 

I didn't say that. Stannis ground his teeth. She is a blackmailer. She was trying to convince Baratheon Transport to begin negociations again by threatening to shame me. She deserves to be imprisoned. 

 

If our actions manage to imprison Mace Tyrell's daughter, typed Davos, he'll never forget that. Baratheon Transport's business relationship with Tyrell's Produce will suffer. 

 

Do you think I will forget that she threatened to release unauthorized pictures of me? That she probably wanted to accuse me of having raped her? I will not let that slide. We Baratheons are not pushovers. 

 

Yes, ser, but Robert and Renly are willing to let this go. 

 

Robert is a drunken fool, and Renly has no experience. Stannis looked outside. His daughter was posing with the fat boy from the Reach -- Randyll Tarly's son, if he remembered well -- and his mousy-looking wife. Mace Tyrell should know better than to send his daughter across Westeros so she can lay with various businessmen in the hope of expanding his own business. I will not stand for this. 

 

So what will I tell them? 

 

Tell them that I won't negociate with them, wrote Stannis. They won't be forgiven by Baratheon Transport, at least not its Dragonstone division. He turned off his mobile phone and gulped down some of the iced tea. 

 

"Mr. Baratheon?" Arya Stark approached him. "Would you mind talking for a moment?" 

 

Stannis stared at her. "I was in the middle of something." He reluctantly pointed to the seat next to his table. "No point in you standing there and looking down at me, as if I'm your royal subject." He frowned. "Though I suppose King Grinch is a rather unpromising name." 

 

Arya sat down. "Yeah, about that... I'm sorry, ser." 

 

"Men have called me worse names," said Stannis soberly. "You have slighted me, that is true, and I will not forgive you for that. However, it is mostly my daughter you have hurt, and it should be her that you make amends to. It's no use speaking to me about this matter. You're wasting your breath." 

 

She scowled at him, but nodded. "Alright." She stood up and smiled. Even Littlefinger's smiles were truer than the one she directed towards Stannis in that moment. "Thank you, ser." 

 

Other men would have said 'no problem', 'good luck', harmless little courtesies -- according to Davos -- like these. Stannis who was unlike other men nodded jerkily and went back to his phone. 

 

* * *

 

Arya thought it had gone well. Shireen had heard her out and accepted her apology, saying that she had probably overreacted and that she was certain that Arya had no malicious intent towards either Baratheons. In turn, Arya had promised not to insult him anymore, a promise that she would definitely keep. Not even only for pragmatic reasons -- she genuinely didn't want to hurt Shireen. She was a friendly girl, not boring, and Arya wanted to get to know her better. 

 

She fidgeted in her dress, which she hated with a fiery passion. They were eating at a fancy restaurant with a formal dress code -- stupid, as if girls in the Middle Ages were allowed to wear small black dresses barely going to their knees. Sansa and Margaery -- especially Margaery -- had helped her choose it. Arya told herself that this would be the last time that she bought a dress without trying it on. Gods, the shoulder part was itchy. She tried to scratch it discreetly. 

 

"Hello, Arya," someone greeted her. She looked up and saw Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell passing. "You look wonderful," said Ellaria with a smile. 

 

"Thanks." Arya tried to smooth out her dress. Stupid thing was becoming crumpled already. Maybe she had folded it wrong? "You look good too. And you too," she added, looking at Oberyn, who was wearing a grey tuxedo.

 

They smiled, thanked her, and walked towards the other side of the restaurant. She wondered who her dinner companions were going to be this time. The restaurant was organized in tables of six, and she, Lommy, and Hot Pie were already occupying three seats. Hopefully not Shireen and her father. She liked Shireen enough, but she wouldn't survive an entire evening sitting face-to-face or across Stannis Baratheon. He was such an odd guy. 'You're wasting your breath.' Who said that, anyway? Arya didn't even think that he was actually intentionally being mean. Either he didn't care or didn't know that saying this was socially inappropriate. Or perhaps both. 

 

"Table Eight?" said a familiar voice. Arya lifted her head, and her eyes met with that of the old woman in the lift from the previous night. 

 

"Oh, yeah." She had unknowingly been covering the metallic sign indicating the table number with her hand. "Sorry." She watched as the bright-eye older woman and her boyfriend -- could he even be considered a boyfriend at their age? -- sat down. 

 

"Well," said the woman, smiling pleasantly at her companions. "This seems to be a cozy little place." Arya thought that she heard the old man mutter about how it was neither cozy nor little, and she definitely had to agree. When no one really answered, the old woman continued, "I suppose we should all introduce ourselves. It'll be a long evening otherwise. I'm Olenna, and," she put a hand on her companion's shoulder, "this is Tywin." 

 

"Mr. Lannister," grunted the one called Tywin. 

 

"Yes. He's more formal than me, I'm afraid. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks." She looked at Tywin. "Though it would be more of a lion, I suppose, knowing the logo of-" 

 

"That's quite enough, Olenna," snapped Mr. Lannister. "If we continue on this road we'll never know these young people's names." He looked at Arya. "You, girl. What's your name?" 

 

"Arya." 

 

"And you?" 

 

"Lommy." 

 

"Yes. What about-" 

 

"It's Hot Pie." 

 

Mr. Lannister's brow furrowed. "Your mother gave you that name?" 

 

"No," said Lommy. "But everyone calls him that." 

 

One look from Mr. Lannister was enough to make Lommy drop his gaze. "I'm talking to you, boy," he said to Hot Pie. 

 

Hot Pie reddened. "My mum called me Haldeus." 

 

Arya had the strange urge to laugh and had to bite her lip to stop herself. She felt that Mr. Lannister was not the type of man to enjoy laughter. 

 

"You're from the North?" asked Olenna. 

 

Arya nodded, moving aside as the waitress put a bread basket in the center of the table. "Yeah. How did you know?"

 

"Your accent," said Mr. Lannister. "Obviously." He directed his stony gaze towards the boys. "But not you two." 

 

"We're originally from King's Landing," said Lommy. "Hot Pie's mum, she got transferred to Winter's Town at her job. And my parents too. They work at the same company." 

 

Mr. Lannister nodded politely, not looking the least bit interested. "What about your parents, dear?" Olenna wanted to know. 

 

"My mum's the head of Human Resources of this company's regional unit," said Arya. She never understood why old people were interested by this. "My dad was in the army, and now he teaches at a military academy." She buttered her bread. "What do you do?" she said politely. 

 

"Oh, I'm mostly retired, dear," Olenna beamed. "I offer my services as a consultant from time to time." Next to her, Mr. Lannister snorted. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he frowned at her. "Tywin here is in the luxury business." 

 

"You sell gold?" asked Hot Pie with wide eyes. 

 

"No." Mr. Lannister looked almost amused. "Transformed gold, among other things." 

 

"That's still gold," said Arya. 

 

The old man's green eyes bore into hers. "No. Mines sell gold. I sell luxury goods. It's very different, girl."

 

Something in his tone irritated Arya. "My given name's Arya," she said, keeping her voice calm and pleasant. "Not 'girl'. Arya."

 

Olenna had the hint of a smile on her lips. Mr. Lannister was scrutinizing her carefully. Arya suddenly realized that perhaps Mr. Lannister wasn't used to being opposed. She prepared herself for a lecture. 

 

Mr. Lannister cleared his throat. "As I was saying, it's all very different, Arya..."

 

* * *

 

  
**Tarth**  

 

Once they had arrived on the island of Tarth, the tour had given them two options: a visit of Evenfall Hall, medieval seat of House Tarth, or a trek throughout the lush forests of the island. Stannis was a bit tired of medieval castles at that point, but Shireen was not, so they had decided to part ways for the day. His daughter was seventeen years old and would be visiting the castle with the Tarly boy and his wife; nothing would happen to her. 

 

Stannis looked at the group that he would be hiking with: the Dornishman and his wife, the Dothraki savages from the East, the greasy-haired backpacking youths (most probably from the ever-growing Lannister brood), and Arya Stark and her equally sweaty friends. It was Robert's bastard -- the boy, not the girl -- who would lead them towards the island's other coast. Stannis hoped fervently that the boy hadn't inherited his father's propensity to drinking and whoring. He was not in the mood to walk in on the boy having an orgy with Dornishmen, Essosi women, and boars (if he had his father's talent for finding them). Though it would be a peculiar twist of fate if the son submitted Stannis to the same treatment as his father had. 

 

A few feet away, the bastard boy yelled something about leaving. Stannis waited until the majority of the group had departed and followed them through the foliage. He did not feel like walking among the group. He had had enough of people nowadays, especially with the Margaery Tyrell affair. He only had himself to blame for that, he supposed. No one had forced him to get into bed with the girl. Maybe he did have some Robert in him after all. The possibility made him feel rather queasy, and so he put his mind over matter, focusing instead on the so-called 'natural beauty' of the hiking trail. Stannis wasn't a nature lover, per say, but preferred being alone with only the stony shores of Dragonstone most of the time, which probably counted. 

 

As noon approached they stopped at a clearing, and Robert's bastard passed around sandwiches and water bottles. Stannis sat in the shade and tried to check his text messages and emails while the rest of the group chatted. When he discovered that there was no signal in this area, he played a few games on his phone and found himself missing Shireen. He wondered if they were having lunch at Evenfall Hall's cafeteria by now. 

 

After half an hour, the hike resumed, and Stannis trailed after the rest of the group as per his habit. He took a few pictures as they advanced, but he grew tired of trees after a while and almost wished that they would return to civilization. Soon they stopped at another clearing for a short break. Several members of their group leaned against rocks, trying to catch their breath. Stannis didn't feel particularly weary, and if he did, it was because of the others' cumbersome presence. He regularly trekked across Dragonstone, from one shore to the other, during weekends. He wasn't like Robert, who had completely lost his shape after he had left the Army. Almost as if he wanted to forget all that he had been. Stannis nearly snorted at that. That was definitely not his brother, who spent family dinners ranting about his glory days in Qarth. No, Robert just happened to prefer whoring and drinking to exercising. 

 

"Ooh, is that the new model?" 

 

Stannis looked up from his phone and saw the Dornishman staring at him. "Yes."

 

The Dornishman sat down next to him. "I'm a great fan of Baratheon Transport." 

 

"Are you trying to flatter me into doing something?" said Stannis sharply. "Because if you are, I warn you, I'm not a man susceptible to flattery, and your attempts will have all been for nothing."

 

"No, I'm just trying to make conversation here," said the Dornishman, seeming almost hurt. He raised an eyebrow. "You're not very friendly, are you?" 

 

"I've survived," said Stannis. 

 

"So I've been told." 

 

"By whom?" If this was another of Robert's agents, sent by his brother to check on him... 

 

The man smiled. "A little bird." He moved closer to him. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

 

"Not particularly." It suddenly dawned on Stannis that the Dornishman was almost leering at him. At least he thought he was being leered at. Selyse hadn't been the type to leer, and while Melisandre and Margaery Tyrell had looked, they didn't compare to the Dornishman's lusty gaze. Stannis drew away from him slightly. "You have the wrong Baratheon," he said sternly. 

 

"Mm?" The man took out an apple from his backpack and started eating it without dropping his gaze. 

 

"My brother Renly would be more than interested," Stannis told him, "though I suppose you'd have to fight Loras Tyrell before getting to him. And from what I hear, Tyrell is a fierce fighter." 

 

Now the man laughed. "Oh, I'm not into little boys like your brother," he said. "Like for wine, I prefer my men well-matured." He winked at him. 

 

Stannis slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. "You're married," he said. "And I have-" 

 

"Not exactly," countered his companion with a smirk. "Ellaria is my paramour. And we have a very open relationship." 

 

"Well," said Stannis, feeling more and more uncomfortable. "My girlfriend and I haven't discussed the terms exactly, but I don't think-" 

 

"She wouldn't care," said the Dornishman with a wink. "Maybe she would even like to see some action." 

 

"Besides, I'm not interested," Stannis snapped. "I think you would have noticed if I were. Leave me alone." 

 

The Dornishman laughed. "Mr. Baratheon, I was kidding." 

 

"I don't appreciate your way of greeting people." 

 

"But what I said was true, though," said the Dornishman thoughtfully. "You aren't bad, not really. A bit on the frowny side, but nothing that can't be fixed once I'm done with you. Don't worry, though. I won't act unless you want it." He hopped to his feet and adjusted his sunglasses with a smirk. "If you ever do, it's Oberyn Martell from Sunspear Wines." 

 

* * *

 

"You saw The Hound in King's Landing?" said Tywin skeptically. 

 

Cleos nodded. "I swear it by the old gods and the new." 

 

"He was drunk," added Lancel, "and kept on asking Stannis Baratheon about your current location." 

 

"Oh," said Cleos, "I did think he looked familiar..."

 

Tywin glowered at the two of them and poured them glasses of Dornish red. "I will pay for all of it," he said, surveying them, "given your limited financial means." 

 

"Thank you, Uncle," said the two young men in unison. 

 

"Cheers!" said Lancel, clinking glasses with Cleos. They inclined their glasses towards Tywin, who scowled at them. They hurriedly lowered their glasses and looked down. 

 

Tywin gazed at them. "And Clegane, what did he want?" 

 

Lancel shrugged, stroking his flimsy moustache. Tywin thought that he should shave it off if he couldn't grow more than a few hairs. No man should have to plague other men with nightmares of pitiable upper lip-dwelling caterpillars. "He didn't say. When Baratheon didn't know, he yelled obscenities. Then he got expelled from the shop."

 

Tywin nodded and sat back against his chair. "Leave me," he said to his nephews, who obeyed immediately. The lobby restaurant was mostly empty by now, save for a few drunks seated by the bar. Tywin downed his drink and decided to stay there for the moment. After all, Olenna wasn't expecting him back until ten o'clock. 

 

Sandor Clegane was Joffrey's dog, everyone knew that. His job entailed trailing behind Tywin's bratty grandson, which 'protected' him, according to Cersei. Well, Tywin's daughter was a blind fool who never saw her son for what he was: a cowardly bully who unleashed his bodyguard on all who dared to wrong him. Was this a thinly disguised warning to Tywin? He doubted, though, as even Joffrey knew better than that. Had Gregor Clegane somehow heard about the Martells' plan and sent his brother to finish him? He chased away the possiblity immediately. Gregor did his own dirty work, and anyways the brothers despised each other. Tywin quickly eliminated every other explanation, as Joffrey didn't have the cunning to orchestrate them. 

 

He decided to call Casterly Rock. It had been days since he had spoken to Kevan, and he wasn't sure when there would be service again. "Hello, you've reached Kevan Lannister's office," said his secretary, sounding falsely chipper. "How may I help you?" Tywin had never liked her, the insolent girl. He made a mental note to suggest a more suitable candidate for the position when he returned to Lannisport. 

 

"This is Tywin Lannister," he said through gritted teeth. "I would like to speak to Kevan." 

 

"Oh, yes, of course, ser," said the girl, quickly losing her lazy tone. "One moment, please." A beep sounded in his ear, and then there was the sound of a receiver being picked up. 

 

"Tywin!" said Kevan, sounding surprised. "Wasn't expecting you." 

 

"How is Casterly?" 

 

Kevan filled him in -- a few new interns had been brought in; the Yronwoods had accepted their offer of a partnership after the Martells' intervention; and several officials required bribes. Tywin asked about Tyrion. 

 

"Oh, he's a natural," said Kevan. "I'm thinking about offering him a position when you return. He's your best choice of a heir, Tywin-" 

 

"Jaime is my heir, Kevan. I will not be having this discussion again." 

 

His brother sighed. "Fine. Listen, Tyrion's here right now. He wants to speak to you." 

 

"Put him on the line." Tywin could hardly wait. 

 

"Hello, Father," drawled his son a few moments later. 

 

"Tyrion."

 

"How is King's Landing treating you, Father? Or is it Dragonstone?" 

 

"I am currently in Tarth." 

 

"Ooh, the Sapphire Isle! I do hope you've taken a few pictures. I've always wanted to go there." 

 

"I highly doubt it," said Tywin, "as I saw no whores there. No taverns, either." 

 

"Oh, Father, you wound me. You have to know where to look, that's all." 

 

"Undoubtedly," said Tywin dryly. "I don't have much time, Tyrion, so stop wasting it. When did you last see your sister?" 

 

"Cersei? Oh, a few weeks ago I paid them a visit. Why? If you're missing her sharp wit you can always call her. Her bark is worse than her bite, you know. She's harmless, really-" 

 

"Is Sandor Clegane still in Joffrey's employ?"

 

A silence at the other end. "He left a few days ago," admitted Tyrion. "No one knew why. I personally think he was triggered." 

 

"Triggered?" 

 

"Yes. He has a case of PTSD, I believe. I'm not sure, but I think Joffrey triggered him by burning his books." 

 

Tywin frowned. "Burning his books?"

 

"Yes, Myrcella told me. Apparently burning books is a favorite pastime of his. Another example of Cersei's propensity to looking the other way, I suppose." 

 

Tywin had to agree. "So Clegane quit because of this?"

 

"Oh, yes. But not without hurling several choice words at Joffrey. They haven't heard of him since." Tyrion paused. "You've seen him?" 

 

His father briefly explained and described one of his theories to him. "But I suppose that's all pointless now," he said grudgingly, "given that none of you know where he is. Did any of you even think about the risks involved with an angry, possibly mad man released into Westeros who also happens to hate our family? Can anyone in this family do anything right?" 

 

"Well," said Tyrion, "I thought about it, yes, but unfortunately I wasn't in King's Landing when The Hound disappeared. Anyhow, what's done is done." 

 

Tywin ordered a glass of mineralized water. "Find him," he commanded. "I want someone watching him every hour of the day, every day of the week. Do not let him escape our grasp." 

 

"Of course. And, Father?" 

 

"Yes, Tyrion?" 

 

"You've been surprisingly courteous today," said his son pleasantly. "No subtle menaces, no insults. I rather think you're growing soft in your old age." 

 

"Watch yourself, Tyrion."

 

"I will-" 

 

"Goodnight." Tywin hung up before his son could make another sarcastic remark. 

 

* * *

 

"Arya! Did you get my email?"

 

"Yeah, Bran, I did. The first link nearly killed the nice old people eating in our restaurant," said Arya dryly. 

 

Noisy footsteps heralded Rickon's arrival. "Hey, Arya!" he shouted. "Did you buy a flag of Westeros yet?" 

 

"Rickon, I'm on the phone now!" 

 

"Sharing is caring, Bran," said Rickon sweetly. 

 

"Boys! What is the matter?" Catelyn called. 

 

"Arya's on the phone, Mum!" yelled Rickon. "Come see." 

 

The stairs creaked with the sudden influx of new footsteps. Arya groaned. It sounded like her entire family had come downstairs.

 

"Arya, how are you? You haven't called in days!" said her mother. 

 

Arya sighed. "I was busy. And it's expensive." 

 

"Didn't we change your plan temporarily?" questioned her father. 

 

"Did you meet any boys that I can scare away?" Robb wanted to know. Arya thought briefly about Gendry, but didn't mention him. She told them about her trek across Tarth, and the quiet beauty of Storm's End, and the stained-glass windows of the Great Sept of Baelor. 

 

Arya's mother laughed, relieved. "It sounds like you're having fun," said her father. 

 

"How's Stannis Baratheon as a roommate?" said Bran. 

 

"How do you know him?" Arya shot back. 

 

"I game with Shireen, sometimes," her brother said. "She's always beating me on LoL." 

 

"LoL?" 

 

"League of Legends. Holy Smith, Arya, what kind of gamer are you?" 

 

"Bran, sweetling, please give me the phone." Catelyn took it and promptly began asking Arya about her life during the past few days. "Are you still staying with Stannis Baratheon?"

 

About fifteen minutes later, Arya bid goodnight to her family and set out to return to her room. It was getting late, and they would be leaving for Sunspear by the next morning, though they would only reach the capital of Dorne in three days. Travel by bus did have its setbacks. 

 

She was leaving the lobby when she heard voices resonating from the hallway. Ducking behind a potted plant, she crouched down and peeked between the leaves. Stannis Baratheon was stiffly making his way down the hallway, with Olenna from the restaurant following him closely. 

 

"Your granddaughter is a criminal," snapped Stannis. "I will not make excuses for criminals. And neither should you." 

 

"No one is denying that, Stannis," said Olenna. "But-" 

 

"Mr. Baratheon." 

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"You do not have the right to call me 'Stannis'. Call me Mr. Baratheon."

 

"Very well. Mr. Baratheon, if you drop charges against Margaery, I will-" 

 

Stannis looked at her with those hard eyes of his. "I am not a man to be bribed with empty promises -- and even if they aren't, the law is the law. Your granddaughter will be punished for her crime." 

 

"You do not have proof," said Olenna coldly. "Margaery does. She has photographs. She could accuse you of rape." 

 

He snorted. Arya continued watching, her eyes wide, trying to remain still. Her legs were staying to cramp. She tried to balance herself on the balls of her feet, but then it backfired and she fell flat on her back, roughly hitting the wall. Olenna and Stannis turned around and stared at her. 

 

Shit, thought Arya as she stood up and wiped the dirt and dried leaves from her shirt. How will I talk my way out of this one? 


End file.
